


Traveling Curiosities

by cloutka



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Contortionist Jimin, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 14:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12484200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloutka/pseuds/cloutka
Summary: “Jimin.” A man walked past, lightly brushing his waist, and he knew that was his cue. Jimin nodded and stepped out from behind the wall of black curtains. He climbed the set of stairs onto the wooden stage, striding past a stout bearded man looking very official behind his podium, and entering the scope of the spotlight. It was bright, instantly radiating heat all over Jimin’s skin the second he stepped beneath it. The crowd silenced as their gazes all turned to him. He did not look at any particular spot in the mass of spectators, but he knew they all had their eyes glued to his thin but sculpted frame.





	Traveling Curiosities

**Author's Note:**

> Eyy, so this is my first BTS fic. Currently this stands as a one-shot, but I might be open to developing it into a full story later on because I love these kinds of AUs so much.

From his spot behind the curtains, Jimin could hear the chatter in the crowd. In the lull, people were conversing on various matters, talking business, talking trivial things like gossip. He couldn’t see them, but he knew that was probably what was going on. These types of events brought together all sorts of people, all eager to watch the stage and discuss what they’d just seen with their peers. The sound all melded together in one undistinguishable roar to his ears. It fuelled the steady pounding of his heart, the anticipation growing within his chest.

He twisted his neck side to side, the latter giving a satisfying crack on the second go around. His arms flexed up above his head as he stood up on the tips of his toes, lightly bouncing himself up and down to stretch his tendons. Jimin leaned forward, bending in half to lay his hands flat on the ground. He’d done all of this multiple times already, but part of him had a hard time keeping still while waiting.

“Jimin.” A man walked past, lightly brushing his waist, and he knew that was his cue.

Jimin nodded and stepped out from behind the wall of black curtains. He climbed the set of stairs onto the wooden stage, striding past a stout bearded man looking very official behind his podium, and entering the scope of the spotlight. It was bright, instantly radiating heat all over Jimin’s skin the second he stepped beneath it. The crowd silenced as their gazes all turned to him. He did not look at any particular spot in the mass of spectators, but he knew they all had their eyes glued to his thin but sculpted frame.

The skin-tight leotard left his solid thighs and muscular arms on display, as well as hinting at the curvature of his chest from where the fabric dipped low beneath his neck. It was like wearing a second skin; a skin that shimmered and sparkled beneath the light like moonlight on a lake. The fabric was a dyed mesh of purples, blues, and silvers, mixing together in a sparkly galaxy upon his body. Stars littered his torso, comets falling down across his hip. Every slightest movement made it shine differently.

It was extravagant, but calculated. The clothing had its purpose.

All was still in the tent as Jimin deeply inhaled and gracefully stretched one arm up, twisting his wrist out. His fingers followed like an extension of his whole arm, soft and flowing. He could hear music playing within his own head, even if he was surrounded by silence. It was a melody of strings and odd metal objects. Wind chimes and pipes, triangles and cymbals. The silent song guided him down to the ground, into a laying position. His legs lifted up off the ground, toes pointed, and they remained suspended as such, seemingly defying gravity, before with one abrupt flick of his left leg, he’d turned onto his stomach.

Every move was precise and executed with a finesse that came with immeasurable amounts of practice. Jimin had been preparing for this day for a very long time now; it all culminated into what would happen over the course of the next half hour. There was no hesitation in each shift, nor did his muscles tremble in the slightest. Now was not the time to be nervous, but to just let it all flow through him. Jimin was confident in his abilities; he knew what was expected of him, and he knew how to do it very effectively.

Somewhere out in the world, a man and a woman might find themselves simultaneously in awe and in shock of what their son had become. A man and a woman Jimin could barely attach a face to, for lack of remembrance. It was all a distant faded memory, one that did not even momentarily cross his mind as he spread his body out to reveal the equally stunning back of his costume. There were so many shimmering dots, one might almost be able to connect them into constellations and drawings of their own imagination.

The man slowly rose from the ground into a seated position, back arched and head tilted back to expose his long neck. With his eyes shut, the audience could glimpse the silver brushed across his lids, and the soft pout of his full lips. No sooner had he settled than he suddenly shot both arms out, and flipped himself around to plant both hands onto the wooden floor.

In a slow forward tilt, Jimin pushed himself into a straight position, toes reaching for the red cloth ceiling of the massive tent while his head hovered above the ground. He kept a careful balance like that for a moment, straight as a needle. It was with a soft exhale that he spread his wings like the delicate ones of a dragonfly, one leg coming forward while the other went back. Carefully, he lowered himself down onto his elbows, which dug painfully into the hard stage. The pain was something he’d learned to ignore.

He’d split into a perfect 180 degree angle, but his legs did not stop there. They continued to descend each in their direction until Jimin could see one of his legs entering his upper peripherals when he cocked up his head. He could feel the stretch in his legs, in his groin, and in his back. It was a stretch that felt good.

People all his life had told him his flexibility was one of his best qualities; his finest talent. It rarely ever failed to amaze and garner attention. They were correct in the respect that his flexibility had carried him this far in his less than ideal life.

Despite having begun this endeavour at a young age, he’d quickly understood his flexibility did not just leave the masses’ jaws agape, but it had certain connotations associated with it too. He knew of the gazes some gave him when he was doing this; loaded with hunger, loaded with greed, and loaded with other equally wicked thoughts.

In this situation, it was an advantage. Jimin, inhumanly split apart before the crowd, was meant to be desirable. He was a shiny object up on stage. A beautiful object that was so delicate yet powerful at the same time, and grasped the attention of every soul seated in those benches. Although, those people would not be there if they did not want to be enraptured in such a way. Beneath all their gazes, regardless what they were thinking to themselves, Jimin felt a rush.

When both sets of toes brushed against the rough wooden boards, that was when the spell broke.

A deep male voice filled the tent, speaking so rapidly it could be considered a rhythm of its own. Jimin paid the actual presence of the man at the podium no mind, but listened to his voice. Not the words that rumbled out in quick succession, but the sound the whole created. It was to this strange sort of beat that he rearranged his body, resting his weight on his upper chest while his back curved backwards as though he was without a spine, until both legs dangled beside his head.

In the audience, arms were flashing up at quick but irregular intervals across the benches. No sooner had the deep voice blurted out three words, he was being cut off by yet another arm shooting up, grasping a thin yellowed card, then prompting the voice to utter a different set of words.

Jimin was in his own bubble. Big booming voice or no big booming voice, he was still the focal point. He needed to remain the focal point. The man’s toes danced upon the stage before one elegant flick of his foot had one leg rising up and descending to touch his big toe to the tip of his nose. Jimin flattened down onto his stomach, and pushed his backside into the air, straightening and reaching back to carry his body into a backwards somersault.

This carried on for another twenty minutes, Jimin putting on a spectacular and elegant display of flexibility and balance while unrest reigned over the crowd and their waving cards. He had just lowered his leg from its position twisted behind his head when the deep voice boomed louder than it had before.

“SOLD!”

And such was the moment he’d been bought. Jimin stood beneath the spotlight, stagnant now but not glimmering any less, especially with the sheen of sweat coating his skin, making the ends of his dark hair stick to the back of his neck. The crowd had erupted into disorganized chatter once again, men sitting back down to complain to their neighbours. Jimin’s eyes properly scanned the mass of people for the first time that evening, searching for the man he now knew as his owner. The man who had won out over everyone else with his coin to obtain this flexible young man for his collection.

Before he could identify the buyer, it was his time to leave the stage. Light on his feet, he descended the stairs, narrowly dodging a man covered from head to toe in piercings who was headed out to replace him under the spotlight. Once he was behind the thick black curtains once more, he wiped at the sweat on his forehead with the back of his wrist, careful not to catch too close to his eyes. A figure ducked in through the curtains, looking very much at odds with the rest of the individuals occupying the area, awaiting their turn.

He was a tall man, dressed in a tailored suit just like every other man in that audience. His was a crisp black, buttoned up to the middle of his chest where a white shirt poked out from beneath. A bowtie was fastened at his neck rather than the tie some preferred. Dark styled hair sat a little mussed up atop his head, falling gently across his left brow. Beneath his arm, he held a bowler hat.

In dress, he was not unlike every other man bidding in the show tent, composed and business-oriented gentlemen searching for a new addition to their traveling show or for other personal purposes, but what caught Jimin off-guard was his face. It wasn’t weathered and wrinkled like many of the old men in there, nor did it carry an air of bitterness or sternness. It was boyish, even though he had the sharp-cut jaw of a man. He was young.

Those big eyes of his had remained transfixed on Jimin since he’d entered, a fascination retained in them even though Jimin was no longer on stage. The man had not said a word yet, but Jimin knew who he was.

With a start, the man cleared his throat and lightly bowed his head. “I am Jeon Jungkook. I was the highest bidder for you” he introduced himself. With a swish of his arm, he’d plopped the bowler back on his head. A semblance of a tight smile flashed across his features. “Come along” he prompted before turning on his heels and walking out of the tent. Wordlessly, Jimin found himself following behind him, about to be taken to meet his new life.


End file.
